We are not our parents
by God rest ye merry hippogriff
Summary: The war turned the tables. We are the Slytherins. We are being made to pay for our parents mistakes. They assume we are just like them but we are not our parents.
1. The war turned the tables

The

war

turned

the

Tables.

* * *

People don't

Go through life with the mindset

of creating war.

Look at the flame

in the midst of it all.

It burns on hate,

prejudice,

pride,

and the feeling of being ignored.

Prejudice

leads to discrimination

and hate.

Add that to the mix

of rising tension

and people feeling that

their world is being changed

by those who have not been a part of for as long

as themselves,

and the pressure they are put under.

This flame ignites the fire.

Is it a revolution?

Is it standing up for your own rights?

Is it changing the political

and social climate

to something that you believe in?

You need to know,

That depending on which side

the flame burns

most brightly on.

Which side is

"good" or "evil".

And most importantly which side wins.

Your "revolution" as such

Will be judged and called different names.

* * *

When you look

where the flame was first ignited

it tends to be in one place.

And it spreads

through the circles

and seeps

into peoples lives.

The place's reputation

gets tarnished

when they are on the "evil" side.

The peoples names,

families and friends

get shamed for somehow

being related.

You seem to forget that

not all meant harm.

You seem to forget

that some had no choice,

That they were just

trying to

protect

the ones they love.

After all,

how far would you go

to keep safe

the people you love?

You seem to forget

that not all of them

had an active role,

just didn't speak out.

You seem to forget

that people just did

what is easy not what was

the ethically and morally

right thing to do.

You seem to forget

that some of your own

were just the same.

You forget that

We

are

not a

all

bad.

* * *

That's us.

Those part of the once significant

Sacred twenty- eight.

But most of all

The Slytherins.

We are known for being

the cunning and ambitious ones.

People often forget

That we are also

resourceful and creative.

Times have changed

And so do we

The tables have turned.

We face hardship unlike others whilst at home.

We have no opportunities.

We are subject to ridicule.

We are mocked and whispered at.

We are the targets for others to practice hexes on.

We get marked down.

We get the blame pinned on us for everything.

Our opinions do not count.

We have been refused help.

In other words we are discriminated against.

Because of which house we belong to.

And more importantly

what our names are

and

what our parents did.

I will tell you now,

that either our parents views

have changed

or we are kept religiously

away from them.

With the odd exception

of one or two-

but still they hold different beliefs.

I will tell you again

We

are

not

our

parents.


	2. Fire in my eyes

I used to live

in my own little bubble.

Oblivious

to the other world

I belonged to.

I used to be proud

of my name

I thought it brought me closer

to my parents.

But now I don't want to be.

I am not my parents.

No one used to look at me

in a mixture of

disgust

and curiosity

whenever I say my name.

I still don't know why I kept my name,

They meant well,

thought they were doing me a favour.

They were probably trying to avoid me going through the phase of self

belonging and searching

for who I biologically was.

They were right.

I have no need to

become closer or

more like them.

When I found out

I wish I shared their name.

They were the burns

and I

was

a

Rowle.

* * *

The war had been over

for a few months.

They had grown tired

of the old blood.

They wanted to punish

those left

for what they had done.

They did not see them

as people they saw them as

animals,

fit only for captivity.

They saw them all as

mass murderers

not as individuals.

Some of them were as bad as they get.

Evil to the core.

Others were swayed easily

and went to the highest bidder.

However most of them were

weak and insecure.

They went into hiding.

They were willing

to put their pasts behind them.

Living with the so called

filthy muggles.

Those filthy muggles showed them compassion, kindness and love,

little if which the magical community had ever shown them.

They accepted them as they were and did not ask questions and judge.

They became part of the community. And forged friendships.

The ministry was determined to find and imprison them.

They wanted to use them as a future deterrent for others.

But do deterrents always work?

The answer is no.

People go to any lengths to achieve the end means.

Do they learn

nothing from the past?

* * *

A man and wife moved in

to the house in the middle of Westview Way.

The houses were many in number but small in size.

Most of which were past their prime. But in these poverty filled streets there was a tight knit community.

These people were all struggling

to make ends meet,

so believed that they were in it together.

The news that two young people with a little child

of around one or two

spread like wildfire.

The gossip was light hearted

and no questions were asked.

Invitations for tea went round the street.

The many families crammed into the small house.

They introduced the child

as Cordelia Rowle.

Who beamed and made the neighbours laugh.

And the cake was of an exceptional standard.

In the coming months that followed they integrated themselves into the village.

The man became known for gardening and odd jobs.

Whilst his wife joined various groups and brought along her soon well known cakes.

Whereas the little girl made friends among the street.

No magic was used.

Had they really proved that a leopard can change his spots?

* * *

The girl was playing in front garden. Tottering on the well kept grass and looking at the array of flowers.

Her mother was looking at her adoringly,

whilst flicking through a glossy magazine.

Her father's laugh filled the room when he looked up from the gardening shears

he was mending.

All seemed well. But was it really?

They wore the expression of fear.

The the feeling of anticipation dripped off of them.

The man was constantly

looking over his shoulder.

Veins in his temple were rarely not throbbing.

His wife's hands were very rarely still.

They often shared a look which said _how long is this going to last._

They told their child that

 _they were sorry_ , _you are loved_ and _you have got to be strong_.

She was repeatedly told

 _Don't make the same mistakes as us_

 _Please,please don't end up anything like us._

When you looked past their smiling faces you could see that their past was catching up.

A ladybird landed on a leaf

and she started singing to it.

 _Ladybird, ladybird_

 _Fly away home._

She was too enthralled to notice what was going on inside.

Two aurors apparated into the kitchen.

They immediately tied the young couples hands together.

They forced them upright knocking the chairs to the floor.

The man accepted his fate.

The woman did not.

She told them she had a daughter.

The aurors ignored her.

She said again in a whisper.

She screamed at him and they tried to retrain her further.

Something went wrong.

It did not restrain her.

The aurors panicked when they saw what they had done. They disappeared with a crack, bringing their hostages with them.

Narrowly escaping the flames rising.

They covered it up.

Never came back.

Case closed.

Meanwhile the girl hadn't noticed what was going on inside.

She was still singing.

 _Your house is on fire_

She looked up and saw orange flames dancing from inside the kitchen.

The flames were moving more precariously, the whole room was ablaze.

She could not see her parents.

She chocked out the words in higher pitch, fear rising insider her.

 _And your children are gone._

* * *

I hope it doesn't seem too glamorous.

I hope it didn't seem like I thought the life they led before,

Was acceptable.

They may have changed

But you can't forget

What they did was

Twisted and wrong.

You should know that the little girl was safe, she can tell you that she was taken in by the neighbours, brought up as the child they never had.

The fire brigade was called and the blaze stamped out.

They never new what happened to the young couple.

Some embellished the story,

Said people came to take them away, and lit the fire to cover their tracks.

Most thought that the innocent young couple were burnt alive in the fire- an accident with the gas.

I thought they were dead.

It was a shock

when I found out

they were rotting

in a wizarding prison for life,

serving time for the many lives

they helped to take.

They didn't have a trial.

They didn't have their side told.

No one listened to them.

No one new about me.

After all,

Who would believe a pair of death eaters?

* * *

Every person

will someday

Have a flame,

keeping them going

day after day.

That flame

helps form

your opinions

your beliefs

your interests and

what you feel passionate about.

This flame can be good

It can be bad.

The flame first lights at different times.

My flame was first lit

when

I

saw

fire

in

my

eyes.


	3. I didn't know I could do magic

My childhood passed

in a blur of colours,

feelings and smells,

with overwhelming excitement

and joy that weave into my memories.

They encouraged me to read.

I have I a huge sense of nostalgia

when I see an apple tree,

I used to pass hours curled in the roots,

lost in the old pages having adventures,

falling in love and growing up

and most importantly magic.

I didn't know that magic as such was real

until my letter arrived.

* * *

Before going to Hogwarts

I thought that magic

was a wonderful good force

that always outweighed the evil.

I only saw it as black and white,

only recently have I seen

all of the shades between.

I know see magic in a negative light,

we do not share with those in need.

We keep it to ourselves.

We manipulate it to suit ourselves

no matter what the consequences are.

Magic has made killing and inflicting pain easier.

We have made it into a almost robotic move.

Without magic killing is usually harder.

You have to feel it strongly enough

to feel the life you are taking with your own hands.

When magic is used,

we often forget that it is a person

at the end of he stick,

as it is so easy.

We can ignore

the look in their eyes

whilst still effectively killing them.

If someone is tortured without magic

you have to be physically in front of them

inflicting the unbearable pain yourself.

You have to watch their face contort in agony,

watch the pain hit and spread like daggers,

you have to hear their screams.

To torture someone with magic

you don't have to be near them,

you don't have to hear their screams continue

until it all becomes too much

and they stop altogether.

Magic makes us see the world from behind a screen,

separate from others,

protected.

It makes us all forget that we are equal.

It distorts that underneath it all we are the same.

* * *

I

didn't

know

I

could

do

magic,

until my Hogwarts letter arrived

saying I could.

I hadn't done anything extraordinary.

I was the type of person

who liked things that had

a sense of order.

I'm still like to have everything

worked out in my head.

I most certainly didn't

use magic much.

Looking back

the only time I could have used magic

was in the garden.

Despite our house being small

we had a large garden.

We had fruit trees at the bottom,

a vegetable patch to the right

and many flowers crammed tightly

in the borders,

bursting out,

whilst displaying their rich and intense colours.

I had a knack with plants.

Green fingers as it were.

I could make plant wither and die.

I could make things grow.

When I touch them the

stem twists as it moves upwards.

Buds swell

until the petals escape and settle

showing the rich and intense colours in all their glory.

This

is

what

made

me

believe.

But that something wasn't magic.

* * *

Looking at my Hogwarts list,

we were overwhelmed

by the many things I needed.

A heavyweight dropped on top of us when we realised

that it would more than likely

cost an eye watering sum.

I need books for every subject.

School uniform and robes.

When I read that I needed enough quills and ink to last me a year

we laughed out loud.

No one uses quills nowadays!

I needed rolls of parchment,

what is wrong with paper?

The list went on,

I needed a cauldron and supplies. Would Grans old cooking pot count?

We could also have pets;

owls – where do you get them from?

Toads – don't they need water?

A rat- they are vermin that spread infection,

and finally a cat - which sounded more reasonable anyway.

* * *

It is surprising

that muggles can come into Diagon Ally

if they know about magic.

They came with me.

The looks we received

were hostile and unwelcome.

We were in awe

of the world we had just stepped into.

It was breathtakingly beautiful.

But you had to laugh

at what people were holding, wearing and doing.

We walked up the street

to the large, white building

that stood imposingly on the corner.

It was run by goblins,

who were small and ugly

who exchanged a few notes for a bag of coins.

I got my wand first.

They said I needed a new one,

as it was what

magic was all about.

I was measured,

calculations were made

before the first wand was chosen .

Nothing happened.

I was worried

that this was all a joke.

That I wasn't actually a witch.

He said _not to worry._

He gave me another one,

and another

until one shot out a bunch of flowers.

He told us

"that is unusual, very unusual.

It is the first one and only one

of those I have made.

Some say that it doesn't work

however you have proved them wrong.

It is very rare,

said to be linked

to old magic.

The wood is from

an apple tree,

that has seen the world

for many, many years.

I think you will be

a

wise

one,

dear girl."

Meanwhile the Burns

were just watching on,

with grins that spread across their faces.

We paid for the wand

and left the shop,

thanking the man as we went.

I gave one of my flowers to him

and the rest to the Burns

who gazed more lovingly at me.

We did not buy

the rest of my supplies

on the busy main street.

We went off into the side ones

that were tired and old looking.

There was the odd person

wandering about

muttering to themselves

and a few families doing the same as us

as the main street was too expensive.

We went into the robe shop first.

The plump lady smiled as she said "Hogwarts robes?"

My aunt told her yes.

The lady ushered me forward

whilst she used her wand

to measure me.

" I take it your new

to this whole magical world,

anyway we are half the price

of anywhere else.

turn around dear"

she flicked her wand,

clothes came flying from the corner.

Magical pins

fit them too me.

She was talking to my uncle

about where to get the rest of my supplies along this street

whilst Aunty was watching

the pins and moving scissors

with narrowed eyes.

" 'Course nothing's been the same

since the war"

she saw our expressions

then hastily added

" it was against Death Eaters,

led by a man called Voldemort,

they believed in blood purity.

Wanted to get rid of

muggleborns,

half-bloods

and those who liked muggles.

Basically they only wanted people

who were from long lines

of magical families.

Who have nothing to do

with non- magical people,

so they killed ' em.

Loads of old families

supported them,

like ...

the... tryn' ta think of the top of me head...

the Avery's,

the Nott's,

Lestrange's

and the Rowle's

to name a few."

She handed us a bag

with the clothes,

neatly folded in.

She hadn't noticed

that we were all silent.

Out in the street,

they said they were sorry

they didn't know

and tell me.

I was silent.

We went into the next shop.

I bought a second hand cauldron

and a trunk that extended.

My initials were magically printed on

whilst my potion supplies,

ink, quills and parchment

were gathered.

The last shop

was the book shop.

The sign above the door read _affordable_ _books new_ and _old._

My school books

were collected

by the assistant.

My uncle and I

looked at the

second- hand books.

The titles were

bizarre

and intriguing,

mentioning strange names,

wars and rebellions.

He got me a fair few

and a couple for himself.

As we paid

the shop keeper commented

on our books,

telling us

what they were about

and what was good

about them.

The total was

surprisingly low considering

that two of my aunts heavy duty shopping bags

were full.

* * *

On the train home

we sat quietly.

Tired from the day.

The sound of

Uncle turning the page to a book accompanied the sound

of my aunt's steady knitting.

I wondered

if they loved me any less.

That night

they came into my room

to say goodnight.

They said they

 _have had a lovely day_.

That _the world I am going into_

 _is incredible_.

That _I will do them proud_.

They told me

 _I was my own person_

 _and had nothing to do_

 _with what my parents had done_.

They told me

 _I was not my parents_

as they turned out the light

and said,

 _May the angels look after and care for you._

As I lay there, I told myself

I

am

not

my

parents.


	4. We were there

The air around me is

warm and sweet.

I follow the footpaths

through patchwork fields,

climbing the gently rolling hills.

My dress sways with every step

and twirls with every turn.

My floppy straw hat carefully

sits on my head giving

a speckled shade across my face.

I no longer have to think about

the burdens that push me down,

restricting my every move.

This is freedom.

This is the liberty

that all should strive to have.

This is what life is.

I don't see magic

when I breath perfectly in time

with my surroundings.

when I feel what they feel.

When I feel so whole and complete.

I see something else.

If you pinpoint that something

it is within us all,

most don't recognise it

try to stamp it out

but it is always there.

I savoured these moments

for I knew that all too soon

I would have to go back.

I would have to go back

to the place which made it so hard

to find the joy and compassion

in all those around me.

I will always remember walking alone,

with a spring in my step,

with bird song and the sound

of life to accompany me,

walking on paths that

those had done centuries before me.

In the dappled shade

of the blooming hedgerows.

* * *

My Aunt and Uncle were blissfully unaware

of the extremity what happened at school.

I think they knew something

was wrong but thankfully

they never directly breached the topic.

My Aunt and Uncle always

walked up the road together.

At the end of the long road

she turned left to the doctors

where she worked as a nurse

and he turned right.

They met at the same place

by the shop as his shift finished

ten minutes later than hers.

They used to pick me up

from school together

and we walked hand in hand along the road.

I saw my them coming out of the shop with bread in their hands

as I crossed the style.

Waving I crossed the road

and joined them.

We walked in a blissful silence

as if savouring the moment.

Hoping that time will stop and leave

Us on a warm afternoon

in in late summer with the sun

only just starting to tire, surrounded

by rich and intense green

and the smell of blooming honeysuckle with the sounds of life around us

whilst we were there- together.

We were there.

* * *

Walking through the graveyard

on the Sunday morning

before I went back we were quiet compared to those around us.

We were reflecting on the words that had just previously been said

" Have a wonderful time

at your school.

Remember that we are always here- you are never alone

if you look hard enough.

If you look hard enough there

will be someone showing you

love and compassion, showing you

the light in the darkness.

Time flies doesn't it?

I still remember you as a little girl tottering in flower beds,

you were always happy and grateful- you still are but never loose it.

I will see you at Christmas.

If you could spare the time write

to us as well, we'd all love

to know how you are.

Remember to always look for the light Cordelia."

* * *

When at home my aunt

cut my hair. She had a knack

with hair and is easily better

at mine than any others.

We sat by the kitchen sink whist he sat near the open french doors

listening to the radio. I could hear the low hum of the radio

and the sound of the scissors

cutting through my hair. Looking

in the mirror my hair was shorter,

still wavy and a few inches above the shoulder.

"You should better start packing."

She said, smiling at her work.

" Fold them properly dear. The cake

is in the hall and pack your

cats stuff too."

Once in my room I dragged

my trunk out from the side

of my wardrobe after I opened

the doors with an exaggerated

tug leaving them swinging.

Slowly and carefully I packed,

writing the objects down on a list

whilst listening to jazz on the radio, singing and swinging along , tapping

My foot to the underlying beat.

We ate dinner outside.

Watching the sky turn pink and orange

as the sun disappeared behind the hills before the sea.

We cut open the Crumble

as the bees were still buzzing

from flower to flower, gathering around the lavender in particular, closely observed by my kitten.

My aunt and uncle were content

whilst butterflies fluttered around

the flowers on the table and the

birds finished their song.

* * *

It was at moments like this

that made me grateful that

I

was

not

my

parents.


	5. Chapter 5

The air outside was clear and crisp although it had a kind of haze

as if the last few weeks of sunshine were coming to an end

\- just like the holidays. The haze was just the start of the weather changing,

just like today was the day when I went back to Hogwarts.

I was woken by a brisk knock,

followed by my aunt coming in and opening my curtains in one swift movement.

"You need to get up darling."

The light was pouring in,

momentarily blinding me before I became aware of my surroundings.

The early morning light filled my room whilst the curtains

rustled in the breeze coming from the open window

whilst the birds were still singing their morning chorus.

No one had stirred except for a woman who was creeping back from her nights dalliances.

I took time getting dressed.

I leisurely slipped into my dress, the cool fabric sitting closely to myself.

I sprayed my homemade perfume, watching the droplets float in the air

and settle on my skin.

I admired my necklace, pulling it straight so it sat evenly on my chest.

I shook my head and my earrings bounced energetically.

The hairbrush slid through my recently cut hair yet the waves still remained.

Pushing my glasses up my nose I carefully went to the kitchen.

"Morning" I said groggily as I slumped onto the kitchen chair.

"Good morning De. Help yourself to the bread, it's fresh, we bought it yesterday" my aunt replied smiling as she bustled around the kitchen.

I generously spread the honey above the thin layer of margarine on the thickly cut bread.

Honey always brought me back to here.

The sweet flavours reminding me of sun, dappled shade,

the sweet smell of flowers and the sound of laughter.

I was lost in my own world,

gazing out the window looking at the rich array of flowers

all nearing the end of their bloom when my uncle came in the room.

"Oh, it's not even quarter past six yet. Your train is at five to, isn't it? So we have plenty of time" he said looking at the clock when he sat down.

His gaze moved onto me a he poured himself a cup of tea. "It's been lovely having you back here De, don't forget us and forget to write, we both love reading your letters." Aunty nodded in agreement as she stood behind him, subconsciously rubbing his shoulders.

Breakfast was finished in silence, they looked at me with almost a sad smile on their faces.

"Here is your lunch darling," she said, handing me a brown paper bag " you'd better go and finish packing. We will see you downstairs at twenty to."

It must have been quite strange seeing us walking down the street before seven;

between us carrying a trunk, a cage and two bags.

The walk to the station was filled with bird song as my uncle picked flowers along the way.

"Thank you for everything you have done, I appreciate it greatly.

I know at times I have appeared slightly preoccupied, and have had a lot weighing on my mind;

you have both helped me lift that and see it in a new light

-even if you may not have known" I said carefully trying to pick the right words.

Aunty looked at me and smiled "we know more than you think, but we do not know the scale of this- I'd worry too much about you De, which is probably why you haven't told us.

You need to remember that there is that there is always the light in the darkness.

You need to keep fighting for what you believe in, and your flame burns brighter than most.

You have done us proud .

When we took you in we didn't know about any of this,

to a certain extent I believe that I should've protected you from all of this;

no one should have to go through this;

it pains me so much to see someone I consider my daughter

to be torn apart by a pack of ruthless wolves.

No one should have to pay for the mistakes if those generations before them.

No one should assume that you are like them.

I give you all my love in the hope that you will stay strong," she said as we stood on the platform- it was empty except for a group of teenagers some of whom were listening curiously without us noticing.

"Don't listen to what they say,

you won't turn out anything like them,

we have shown you all of our love.

You will not make the same mistakes as your parents," she said, hugging me tightly with tears in her eyes, whispering " I will miss you so much, my darling girl."

"Goodbye De," he said giving me the flowers as his strong arms engulfed me in a fatherly embrace.

They stood with their arms around each other waving goodbye,

with tears in their eyes as the train pulled out of the station.

* * *

Fields blurred outside as we reached a few minutes of speed

before slowing and stopping at another station,

the whistle was blown by the guard and the doors closed and this repetitive process began again; luckily it wasn't until another hour that people would start to recognise me.

The carriage was mostly deserted .

Only the sound of my pen writing on paper

and the low murmur of conversation from the teenagers could be heard.

I was working on a Herbology study that I had been doing over the summer

as during my many walks I had observed plants- some not very well known at all and only found in specialist books.

Once I was absorbed by my work I did not notice my surroundings,

I did not notice that the some of the other teenagers were looking at me.

I did not notice that the train was slowly starting to gain more people.

I did not notice Louie Ashton- a Gryffindor from my year,

board the train behind his mother – who had already passed through this carriage

until he stopped in front of me in the isle and spat

" You filthy whore. Tortured and killed many people yet over the summer?

Just like your old parents." He was viciously sneering when I looked up.

His hand clamped my shoulder.

"Let go," I said through clenched teeth.

His grip just increased.

"Get your filthy hands off me."

"Let go of her," one of the teenagers had stood up

, I vaguely recognized him, I had seen him around the village, maybe we went to school together? "You have no right to speak to her like that."

Ashton scoffed as he leaned in closer

"You always have someone to protect you, don't you Rowle?

When you are alone you are weak and pathetic,

especially with all of that pacifist bullshit.

One day you are going to be pushed off your high horse

and everyone is going to see you for what you truly are, a filthy murdering whore.

Just like your bitch of a mother, and look where that got her – rotting away in prison."

The carriage began feeling small,

I started to heat up as blood rushed through my veins in anger.

My ears were ringing .

In my rage he was the only one who was clearly visible.

I could see where exactly I wanted to punch him.

Shaking, through gritted teeth I slowly said

"Piss off, unless you want me to go to your mother," his eyes showed a flash of fear

" and tell her exactly what you are,

and also tell her that she needs to tell you what whore means,

and in what context it is appropriate to be used" I finished, almost hysterically but my voice remained forceful.

He paled and stalked off.

The corners of the boys mouth lifted upwards "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you for back then."

" No problem," he extended a hand "Sam Marshal."

Taking it, smiling I replied " Cordelia Rowle."

"You're Carol and Graham Burns daughter, aren't you. What are you doing on a train to London?."

"Yes, I am. I'm on my way to school. What are you doing on a train to London?"

"Oh, we are out for the day," he pointed his head in his friends direction "Where do you go to school anyway?"

"It's in Scotland, but we all get a train from London," I explained.

"Do you want to join us?"

"Thanks, but it's fine, some of my friends should be getting on, here in fact," I said as we stopped at a station and the name was announced.

" See you around Cordelia," Sam said as he went back to his friends.

I smiled "I'll see you around."

Sitting back down I went back to my work,

only for a few seconds,

as a bag was dumped on the table whilst a trunk was clumsy put overhead.

"Morning Tommy," I said as I looked up.

"Hi," he replied as he unceremoniously sat down.

I turned to look at him "How are you?"

"Well-" he was cut off as Margery said "Hey De, how are you?"

she was a seventh year who had being staying at Tommy's for the past few years.

" I'm fine, how- what are you doing here, you left school three years ago," I exclaimed, rather loudly as I saw Tommy's brother Alex.

"I am your new head of house" he grinned.

"Don't look at me he only got asked the other day," said Tommy defensively.

My gaze went onto Margery who was twirling her black hair with her fingers.

She looked up and me and said "McGonagall knows about us. We are going to keep things completely appropriate." I raised my eyebrows. " we are going to be exactly what we are supposed to be when in school but when we are out of school we can be together."

The rest of the train journey was uneventful.

The train continued it's rhythmic whirring on the tracks

whist outside we went across more suburban areas, sprawling out as far as we could see.

Tommy and I had brief conversations but the rest was spent in a comfortable silence.

I looked across at Alex who was looking at Margery,

who was leaning on his chest as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

They were in their own world,

savouring the moment- both hoping it would last.

That they would never have to leave the train;

they could just stay there, I their loving embrace.

My thoughts drifted back to my aunt and uncle.

They would never realise how much I loved them.

I kept seeing their sad and proud faces waving at me

whilst my aunt's voice kept on repeating

You

Are

Not

Your

Parents.


End file.
